


Hey, Mr. No Name Kid

by bicroft



Series: SidGeno Tumblr Prompts [19]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Player(s), But Still Playing Hockey, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 02:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13965819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bicroft/pseuds/bicroft
Summary: Sid's never dropped gloves before. Sid's neverhadto drop gloves before- and then, there was this fucking new guy.





	Hey, Mr. No Name Kid

**Author's Note:**

> It's been almost exactly a month since I actually published anything, oops
> 
> thisladylovesmilktray on tumblr asked for "fight me you attractive stranger" preferably Sid Geno", and this is that! Beer league AU! Title taken from "Fight For Me" from Heather's the Muiscal

Sid’s never dropped gloves before.

Sid’s never _had_ to drop gloves before, because this was fucking beer league hockey, for god’s sake; everyone was just there to have fun and have a good time, and then go to work the next morning. It was low stakes, two-night a week commitment, and everyone got to have a little bit of fun to keep them from going fucking insane at their nine-to-five. It was great.

And then, there was this fucking new guy.

Sid had no idea where Alex had gotten him from but _this fucking guy_ \- he was going to be the death of Sid, really. He was fast, and good, and so, so fucking _filthy_ sometimes it just made Sid want to scream. Every time Sid had the puck nowadays, when they were playing, this _giant_ seemed to come out of nowhere and, with grace that he had _no_ fucking business having, steal it away.

“— And, to boot, he goes around looking like-” Sid waved his hands vaguely at Kris, frustrated beyond words. “- And, it isn’t fucking fair!”

“You’ve got weird taste in guys,” Tanger said, chewing on the end of his straw. “And, it’s no big deal. We won.”

“But _that guy_ ,” Sid said, exasperated, head in his hands. Really, if the guy was going to be pulling dirty moves like that out on the first night they met, the _least_ he could do was have the decency to give Sid his name- but, no. His jersey was blank, just like everyone else’s, and Sid didn’t think he’d heard the guy say anything except for “here!” all night, so _that_ was out the window, too.

“You really just need to get laid, bud,” Flower said, patting him on the back. “How long’s it been since you had a conversation with a dude?”

“Fuck off,” Sid said instead of answering, because none of this was the point right now. “I don’t need to get laid, I need to know where Ovechkin found this guy and how I can kick his ass.”

“You’re bad at crushes, too,” Tanger said, pointing the straw at Sid now- and, honestly, fuck him. “You’re thirty, man, that’s beyond pulling pigtails.”

 “I’m not pulling _anything_ ,” Sid said, flipping him off.

“You are, kind of,” Flower said, because he was a fucking traitor to Sid’s loyalty. “Just talk to him after the next game, man. No big deal.”

It was a _huge_ deal. It was a huge fucking deal, and neither of them _got it_ , and neither did Taylor when he explained it to her when he called that night. She _laughed_ at him, which was even worse than Flower and Tanger’s outright dismissal.

That was fine, though, because the time their next game rolled around, Sid had pulled himself together; he wasn’t going to let this guy fuck with his mind. Ovechkin was always trying shit like that, and he was sure that this was just another case of him trying to put Sid off his game- and, he was absolutely not going to fall for it.

That was what he told himself, right up until he walked into a fucking column in the rink lobby watching the new guy bend over to tie his shoe in leggings that should have been illegal to wear in public. Then, he told himself, he was just absolutely not going to fall for it _on the ice_ , because off the ice was a lost fucking cause.

Who let a man be that pretty? _Really_?

He shook himself out of it by the time they got on the ice, and only caught himself staring close to the end of warmups, when he looked up to see the stranger talking to Ovechkin in rapid fire Russian, tipping his head back to laugh heartily at something he said- and, who gave him the right to do that, too? Nothing Ovechkin had ever said in his _life_ called for that kind of laughter.

He caught Sid’s eye when he settled down, and grinned, and all Sid could do was frown back. This fucking guy.

Everything was fine, for the first ten minutes of play; Sid actually managed a goal, and it looked like last time was a fluke, and maybe the new, beautiful stranger wasn’t out to personally ruin Sid’s game and, by extension, his life as a whole. After that first goal, though, the man was back on Sid tighter than his fucking Underarmor, and Sid didn’t think he’d ever been simultaneously pissed and turned on before. It wasn’t a good feeling.

Even with Sid getting checked into the boards and tailed all night, they managed to eke out a five to four win, but that didn’t keep Sid from feeling rattled and angry, just like he had the other night.

“You _really_ just need to get laid,” Flower said, shoving his gear back into the trunk of his car. “Seriously, Sid, go talk to the guy; it’s no big deal.”

Sid bit his tongue and just went for glaring instead, because if he were to talk, he knew he’d say something stupid and juvenile like “he’s the _enemy_.” Which was _true_ ; if there was such a thing as beer league rivals, Ovechkin’s team would be theirs. “I could get laid, if I wanted to.”

 “When was the last time you did?” Sid jumped a foot in the air when Tanger came up behind him. He didn’t know what kind of weird French-Canadian hive mind there was so that he and Flower both knew exactly when the other was needed to join in chirping Sid into an early grave, but he _really_ wished that that came with a warning bell. “None of your fucking business,” he said. “You two have wives and lives, why do you care so much about whether or not I’m getting any?”

“That’s what friends are for,” Flower said, reaching up to muss Sid’s hair before he got started walking around to get into his car. “But, seriously. Go talk to him, next time we play, or I swear to god I’ll set you up on another blind date- and, you know my taste in guys is even worse than yours.”

Sid couldn’t think of a worse punishment. “Fine.”

“Atta boy,” Flower said, winking at him like an asshole before he got in his car, and left Sid to frown and wave goodbye as he pulled out of the parking lot. When he turned around to address Tanger, Sid couldn’t find him, and instead saw his taillights following Flowers. Cowards and assholes, the both of them. Sid needed better friends.

They didn’t play Ovechkin’s team for another few weeks, which was good for Sid. He could piece back together his psyche, and hope to god that Flower forgot the whole things by the time either of them had to deal with it again- but goalies, like elephants, don’t forget a damn thing, and as soon as Sid got to the rink the next time they were due to see the guy, Flower was waiting for him.

“Get a date, or I get you one,” he said, nodding towards the guy.

Sid frowned. He really needed to _stop_ frowning; it was starting to make him feel like he was going to get stuck that way, like his mom used to tell him. “I’d prefer not to,” he said. “I’ve got routines to get through.”

“After the game, then,” Flower said, and there was really no way he was going to let Sid get out of this, he could see it in his eyes.

Sid had made peace with it by the time he was warmed up. He was an adult; he could carry on a conversation with a guy for long enough that Flower was satisfied and hey, maybe he’d get at least one nice dinner out of the whole thing.

His resolve to be a grownup lasted about halfway into the game, when the guy knocked him up against the glass so hard he saw stars, and the words: “That’s it- fucking _fight me_ ,” slipped from his lips as he pushed back.

Play, and time, seemed to stop for a moment. The guy blinked. “What?”

Sid should’ve backed down. He did not. “I said, _fight me_ , you- _attractive stranger._ Fucking _seriously,_ I usually make guys buy me dinner before I let them ride my ass like you have been.”

Peripherally, Sid could hear Flower losing his shit in the net, and he thought he maybe saw Ovechkin laying on the ice and dying with laughter out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t tell. He kept his gaze trained on the stranger, who looked like he was in between flushing and frowning. “I’m-” he spluttered, and then pressed his mouth into a thin line for a second, something unreadable passing over his face.

Sid had a split second of _oh shit, I’m actually about to get into a fight_ before the cloudy expression passed, and the guy laughed. “Alright, then,” he said. “I’m owe you a couple dinners, then.”

Sid wasn’t sure what to do other than flush. “I mean, I- yeah. Yeah, you do.”

“Very cute,” Ovechkin said, finally pulling himself to his feet. “But, we’re only have rink reserved for another twenty minutes, so, you can flirt after we kick your ass, right Crosby?”

“Fuck you,” Sid said, but he said it with a smile that didn’t leave his face for the rest of the night.

They ended up having to take it as a draw when their ice time ran up, but that didn’t matter to Sid as much as it normally would, especially when the Attractive Stranger plopped down next to him when he was unlacing his skates and said “So, when you’re free?”

“Pretty much every night that I’m not playing,” Sid said without thinking about whether or not that made him sound desperate. “But- Wednesdays and Fridays are best.”

“I’m free this Friday,” the guy said. “And I’m know a really good place, can text you address if you’re give me your number?”

“Of course, yeah,” Sid said, rummaging through his bag for a second before he came out with his phone and handed it off so that the man could put his number in; he’d never been more grateful for Flower intentionally sabotaging his old flip phone than he was in this moment.

The man handed him his phone in return, and when he handed Sid’s phone back to him, he’d put him name in as _Zhenya))_.

“Zhenya?” Sid tried, frowning.

“ _Zhen_ ya,” he said. “But, close. Know is hard, for people who not speak Russian.”

“I’ll just practice,” Sid said, and Zhenya’s smile made his heart do flips.

“I’m hope I give you reason to,” he said.

They just sat there for a few moments, smiling at each other like enamored school kids before Zhenya looked away. “Sasha’s my ride,” he said, nodding over his shoulder to Ovechkin, who was waiting near the door. “I’m- text you later, though?”

“Yeah, totally,” Sid said. “I’ll see you Friday.”

Zhenya smiled at him again, and seemed to want to say something more, but settled for shaking his head and waving to Sid as went out the doors of the rink, and out of sight.

“That isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said, ‘talk to him,’” Flower said, sneaking up behind Sid and making him jump. “But, you’ve never done things the normal way.”

“And it worked,” Tanger said, popping up on Sid’s other side. “Good job, Sid.”

“I didn’t really think about it, when I did it,” Sid said, shrugging and kicking his skates off, avoiding eye contact with the both of him by going out shoving his gear into his bag. “But, I’m glad it worked.”

“He seems nice,” Flower said. “Any guy who actually decided to ask you out after that has to be.”

Sid looked up to glare at him. “Gee, thanks.”

Flower shrugged. “I’m just saying- not exactly the smoothest way to go about it.”

“Like you’d know anything about smooth,” Sid shot back, and Flower’s response was cut off by Sid’s phone going off with a text from Zhenya.

_Sasha keeps laugh at me for not being good at flirting with you  
Trying to tell him it worked anyway but he’s still be asshole_

Sid couldn’t help but laugh. _Ovechkin’s always an asshole. But, I kinda agree._

 _You so mean to me_ , Zhenya shot back almost immediately. _Still work, though._

“You should probably drive home before you keep looking like that in public,” Tanger snorted. “The rink’s gonna close soon, and those lovesick eyes of yours aren’t fit for public consumption.”

“Fuck you,” Sid said, but he was probably right. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“If you don’t tell us how the date goes, I’m hunting you down!” Flower called after him as he left, and Sid just flipped him the bird, and went back to his phone.

Really, he was kind of grateful this ended in- well. Maybe not love, but also not war.

Now he just had to figure out how to steal the guy away from Ovechkin.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't produce as much content as I do complain about how long it takes me to produce content, but if you ever want to prompt me or talk to me, I'm on tumblr @sidsknees!


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